he tried to answer him, but the words mingled in a stammering of
confusion before she could utter them.

"You don't think there's a chance of Traill coming back to you, do
you?" he went on. "I shouldn't be here, I assure you, if there were."

Sally's knees trembled with weakness. An overwhelming nausea shook
her till she shuddered.

"Did he tell you to come here?" she whispered.

"Heavens, no! I don't suppose he'd do that. He wouldn't do a thing
like that. But I'm pretty sure he's in love with that Miss
Standish-Roe--the beautiful Coralie. He knows it. He won't admit it;
but I'm certain he is, and I rather think I'd better open his eyes
a little."

That last remark did not fall within her understanding. She took no
notice of it.

"And so you came here of your own accord?"

"Yes--why not? I had an apparently erroneous idea that you liked me.
When you let me come back here after dinner, I was sure of it. I saw
no reason why we shouldn't get along together just as well as you
and Traill did."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, and she hid her face in her hand.

"Oh yes--I see my mistake by this time," he said easily. All passion
was cooled in him now. "I'm sorry. There was no intention of insulting
you in my mind." He moved to the door. "I--I thought you understood
it."

Sally dropped into a chair, her face still covered; shame--the
deepest sense of it--beating through all her pulses.

"Well--I must only hope you'll excuse my--my ignorance of women,
though I must admit you're a bit different to the rest. Well--I
suppose I'd better say good night, then."

She heard him take the step forward. She could see in her mind the
hand held out, but she did not look up. He turned again to the door.
She heard it open. She heard it close. She heard his footsteps slowly
descending the stairs. And still she sat there with her face
close-buried in her hands.

CHAPTER IV

You are never to know how deep the iron has entered your soul until
Fate begins to draw it out.

When Traill had left her, Sally's mind had been numbed with misery.
The despair of such loneliness as hers is often a narcotic, that drugs
all power of thought. In the beating of her pulses, when she had first
heard Devenish's footsteps mounting the stairs, she was forced to
the realization that hope was not yet dead in the heart of her. That
undoubtedly was why, despite all Janet's efforts, she had refused
to leave her rooms. The hope that Traill would one day